


when the devil comes to plea (he'll be running quicker than you've ever seen)

by Hornswaggler



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: Akmazian does live up to his reputation, Gen, Protectiveness, taken to some extremes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 10:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16324469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornswaggler/pseuds/Hornswaggler
Summary: Akmazian runs with some pretty shady people.Akmazianisa pretty shady person.Now the Destroyer of Stars has developed something of a soft spot. Not all of his employees approve.





	when the devil comes to plea (he'll be running quicker than you've ever seen)

**Author's Note:**

> and here's my second fic in three days for this show, whoops, I did not expect to go so deep.
> 
> listen, I live for very blatant criminals being protective of their far-less-dangerous counterparts (and I'm still in a lot of denial about season 3)
> 
> ((also it's real fun to make up random alien species, who knows what anyone actually is))

“You’re late, Akmazian.”

He barely paused in the doorway. It wasn’t often that the cargo bay could be called busy, but this was about as close as they got. There were crates strewn across the floor, a few extra lights perched on top to let them see the work, and almost a dozen of Akmazian’s....employees, for lack of a better term.

One of them was glaring at him from next to a crate full of some kind of food packages that were probably a rotation or two over their expiration. Akmazian was, admittedly, a little impressed by how much venom the expression had. These were some of the least pleasant people on EOS 10 -- the scavengers, the weapons dealers, the loan sharks -- and there was a very good reason they answered to him.

Namely that his reputation, no matter how fake a lot of it was, tended to precede him.

“Pretty sure the boss can’t be late,” Akmazian said, making sure there was a touch of warning behind the usual chipperness in his voice. “How’re the shipments looking?”

The other guy didn’t move, and Akmazian paused to really look him over. Kalpik, that was his name, a pretty high-level dealer by the station’s standards, with a gun on one hip and a hand on the other.

This should be interesting.

“You look like you got something to say.” Akmazian folded his arms, leaning his weight on one leg as he tilted his head a little. He could feel the others’ eyes on him and made a mental note of where each was and what kind of weapon they might have before putting his focus back on Kalpik. “There a problem?”

“You tell me,” Kalpik snapped. “This is the third time you’ve just wandered in like that, like we don’t got a business to run.”

Akmazian wondered if this guy had stepped up himself for all this or if he’d been the unlucky one picked by the others to air their collective grievances. Either way…

“Not much of a schedule around here.” He took a few steps closer and was impressed when Kalpik held his ground. “Shipments go out, everyone gets paid. So, again.” His expression hardened, just a hair. Just to test the waters. “There a problem?”

Kalpik glanced around at the rest of the crew like someone might step up to help. It wasn’t surprising when no one did. “I think _you’re_ the problem here,” he said after a second. “We got shit to do, and you’re off doing...gods only know what.”

Akmazian’s laugh was short and harsh, and his grin was sharp. A few of the others took half a step back. Good on them.

“I’m pretty sure what I do is none of your damn business,” he said, still as cheerfully as ever. It seemed to unnerve people. To his credit, Kalpik’s resolve was still holding.

“It’s plenty of our business when you’re threatening the whole operation.” Another glance around, but he still didn’t back down. His hair was starting to flutter, though it was unclear if it was from fear or anger. Someone with more than a passing knowledge of that species might’ve been able to tell. “You’re out strolling around the station, and if you get caught it’s only a matter of time before they decide to pay a little more attention to these areas.”

Akmazian snorted. “You say that like I’m about to get caught.”

“ _And,_ ” Kalpik pushed on, “what about those damn doctors, huh? Told you outright they’d go to security and you just let them walk out anyway.”

“And yet,” Akmazian spread his hands to gesture around the bay, “here you are.”

Kalpik glared at him a few seconds more. He stepped forward suddenly, and that was surprising enough that Akmazian raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve gone soft, _Destroyer_ ,” Kalpik growled. Akmazian felt his easy-going grin slip off his face in an instant. “Giving out medication for nothing, flying off chasing ghosts, taking all that time just for a damn _cat_.” It looked like Kalpik was holding back the urge to spit. A good decision for him. “We got into this work to make credits, not pander after some do-gooder doctor.”

Akmazian considered him for a moment. The silence in the cargo bay hung heavy, and though he kept a little attention on the rest of the crew around them, his eyes stayed on Kalpik.

“Is that what you’re thinkin’?” he asked simply, and Kalpik’s snort made his hair twitch a little more.

“That’s what I know.” Kalpik took another step forward. “You might be the scourge of the Alliance or something, but I’ve got my own work to do, and if that gets screwed up because you’ve got a _crush_ …” His scoff was sharp. “We might wanna reconsider the chain of command down here.”

There was a rush of whispers around them, circling like the sort of breeze they’d never get on the station. Akmazian swept a casual look at the others, seeing feelers twitching and hands fidgeting, and he was pretty certain Kalpik wouldn’t have much support if it came down to it. The whole “Destroyer of Stars” title still held a lot of weight.

“You’re welcome to see how well that would go,” Akmazian said, his voice lowering. “Not sure I’d recommend it.”

Kalpik shot a look around himself and seemed to come to a similar conclusion. His sneer was accentuated by the sharp fang it uncovered.

“You’re one of the best,” he acknowledged. “I’m sure we’d all hate to see you go. Maybe I can just pay a visit to the infirmary, see if that pink-haired doctor’s got anything to help with your work ethic.”

Akmazian felt the ice slip into his blood and any trace of good humor vanish. He kept his posture loose, but every muscle was instantly primed for...something.

Don’t show weakness. Don’t acknowledge that there was a weakness in the first place.

Don’t tolerate threats toward one specific man who was _definitely_ a weakness.

“I hear you,” Akmazian said, and Kalpik’s second eyelids blinked in rapid succession. “Why don’t we take a walk? Talk about these concerns of yours.”

Another series of blinks. Thrown off guard. That was good.

“I...don’t think I want to,” Kalpik said, and his eyes darted down to the gun on Akmazian’s hip.

The gun was pulled out and held up for a moment before Akmazian set it down on the top of one of the crates.

“Pretty sure you do.” He hooked an arm around Kalpik’s shoulders and steered him out of the small crowd, the others parting for them immediately. “I wanna hear what you’ve got to say.”

There was quiet murmuring behind them as Akmazian headed to one of the narrow hallways that branched off from the cargo bay. The place was dark, unsurprisingly, but he doubted that was any issue for Kalpik.

Akmazian knew this place like the back of his hand, down to the uneven floor panels and occasional dangling wires. Anyway, his eyes adjusted quickly.

It didn’t take too long for Kalpik to pull away sharply and pull his tunic straight with a quiet curse. Akmazian stopped, arms folding again, and tilted his head a little to one side.

“So, tell me,” he began, “there a problem?”

“I _did_ tell you,” Kalpik snapped. To his credit, he looked nervous now. “We’ve got this whole damn operation to run, and for some reason everyone looks to you to manage things. That was just fine by me, y’know, having someone with that many credits on their head at the helm, it’s a good impression for customers.”

He paused. Apparently raising these accusations alone was a lot more concerning than in the middle of a group, even if no one in that group was about to risk supporting him.

Akmazian nodded once, shortly. “But?”

“ _But_ , it’s like I was saying.” Some of the previous venom came back into Kalpik’s expression and he stepped forward enough to jab an overly-long finger into Akmazian’s chest. “You’ve gone _soft_. People find out your priorities have shifted from the actual job to some little prick with his ridiculous forehead, there goes our reputation.”

It took Akmazian a second to pull in a quiet breath, make sure his tone stayed steady. Part of him found it interesting that it wasn’t the invasion into his space that made his hand itch for his gun.

Just like it hadn’t been the threats to him that made him drag this idiot even deeper into the station.

There were quite a few interesting revelations lately. This was just a rather inconvenient time to be noticing them all over again.

“You notice a drop in my sales, Kalpik?” Akmazian asked coolly. “Last I checked, we’ve been movin’ more merchandise through here than ever.”

His eyes had adjusted enough that he could see Kalpik’s hair flutter out as he snorted. “I’ve noticed a drop in _you_. Where the hells you been going, huh? Chasing scavver ships, finding Alliance defectors -- yeah,” he added as Akmazian’s eyes narrowed briefly, “don’t think I don’t know the basics. I’ve got friends in a lot of places. If you were comin’ back with new goods, fine, but that’s not happening, so _what is the point_?”

Akmazian considered that for a moment. He turned, starting further down the hallway, and it was satisfying when Kalpik started to follow after only a slight hesitation.

He wasn’t armed. Kalpik was. The confidence was understandable.

It was also very misplaced.

There was a little more effort than expected to drop the accent -- it had been a hell of a long time since he’d bothered. “So you want to know what’s really going on, huh?”

Kalpik’s steps faltered, and his hair was rigid to his sides when Akmazian glanced back. Understandable. Also a little funny.

“Fact of the matter is,” Akmazian continued, “the Alliance put that price on my head to get the blame off of theirs. It was a smart move on their part -- wiping out an entire system really doesn’t make for good propaganda posters, but starting a manhunt for one of the only guys who knows the truth, well…” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m innocent. Of that, anyway. But they’ve got a hell of a lot more skeletons in their closet than the Adrarian system, and hey, not much more they can do to me, right?”

There wasn’t a response to that. Kalpik’s baffled look only lasted a few seconds before he got it under control and brought the scowl back.

“I don’t care if you blew up the entire damn galaxy or not,” he said. “You’ve still got a job to do here, and that’s --”

“And that’d be just fine if they were only after me.” Akmazian glanced around the hallway as it widened just a little, an area to accommodate the recycler set into the wall and the storage closet across from it. He stopped there, turning back to Kalpik. “Thing is, somehow Dr. Dalias got dragged into the middle of this shit himself. That doesn’t exactly sit right with me, so we’re getting to the bottom of it.”

Kalpik stared. It took a moment before his scowl turned triumphant.

“I _knew_ it,” he hissed. “It’s all that damn doctor, he’s been a pain in the ass since he walked in.”

Akmazian tilted his head concedingly. “It’s all that doctor.” It felt strange to say out loud. Not that it would matter too much in the long run. “He doesn’t know half of what he’s gotten into, and he doesn’t need to. Shit on this station is screwed up enough already, so I’m more than happy to deal with all the shit off of it.”

“That is not your job, Destroyer.” Kalpik stepped up into his space again, and Akmazian returned the glare calmly. “Your job is to move merchandise. Your job is to make sure this operation keeps running smoothly and maintains its reputation. Your job is _not_ keeping one guy from getting a little uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think it’s up to you to say what I’m here for,” Akmazian told him.

Kalpik barked out a laugh, and his fingers were fidgeting in rhythm with his hair. “So you’re gonna be going around bending over backwards for this kid, for what? Most wanted man in the Alliance gets a little crush and suddenly he’s useless?” He turned, pacing a few steps to his left and then back. “The hell you think is gonna come of this? Gonna woo over the good doctor with a few favors and a stupid cat?”

Akmazian kept his face clear, kept watching Kalpik with a sort of vague disinterest.

“Probably not,” he said. “But I can keep him from too much trouble, at least for now.”

“Oh, gods,” Kalpik muttered. There was a hint of disbelieving glee in his voice now. “You _are_ soft.”

“I’m doing what needs to be done.” Akmazian shrugged one shoulder. “This work was never a permanent set-up. The timetable just got...moved up.”

“You’re risking all of us, is what you’re doing. And that’s not gonna stand.” Kalpik’s hand clenched shut near his gun. He’d never been one for subtlety. “Like I said, be a shame to lose you. But it’s dangerous work in maintenance, you know, and as a _legal_ resident of this station, I’m entitled to infirmary care.”

Akmazian nodded slowly, looking down at the floor for a moment before he let out a breath.

“Well,” he said, slipping the drawl back on like a coat, “it’s a real pity. I think they’re gonna be a little too late.”

Kalpik’s confused blink was interrupted by a knee ramming into his sharp chin. He managed a startled yelp, hand flying instinctively to his gun before Akmazian grabbed the arm and twisted it sharply behind his back. He wasn’t sure the guy had any real bones, but something definitely cracked.

It didn’t slow Kalpik down as much as expected; his hair was stiff enough to feel sharp as he dropped to the floor and kicked backwards. Akmazian managed to catch himself on one knee, trying and failing to keep a hold on Kalpik’s arm as it went weirdly loose.

He really ought to read up on the different species he worked with. Might come in handy.

The gun was out of its holster. That threw a lot of the conscious thought out the window as all priority went to making sure it never pointed at him. Akmazian lunged, forcing Kalpik’s aim toward the ceiling, and brought all his weight down on that arm as it hit the floor. The gun fell, but it didn’t seem like Kalpik had lungs to knock the air out of because he didn’t even pause.

And he also hit a lot harder than expected with those long fingers.

Akmazian felt one of his ribs crack under the punch before he grabbed Kalpik’s free arm and pulled it away from where it had immediately started toward the gun. It took a few seconds of struggle, ignoring the sharp pain with each breath, before he managed to get a grip on the gun himself and Kalpik froze the moment he was staring down the barrel.

“Don’t be an idiot, Akmazian,” he hissed. “You think killing me is gonna change anything? Just proves you’ve got a weakness.”

“Proves it’s not one to be trifled with,” Akmazian said. He didn’t manage to keep the slight struggle for breath out of the words, but that didn’t matter now. “Examples need to be set.”

“And then what, huh?” Kalpik was talking faster, the barest hints of panic leaking into his voice. “Then what? Killing me trying to protect that kid, you think that’s gonna make you deserve him more?”

Akmazian paused, pulling in a breath that sent a shard of glass through his side and letting it out again slowly.

“Nah, it won’t.” He flicked the safety off. Guys like Kalpik never had the stun setting on. “But I haven’t deserved him from the start.”

They would hear the shot in the main bay area, but there were too many layers of metal and insulation for anyone on the deck above to notice. Akmazian let himself stay kneeling for a moment, let the muzzle flash fade from his eyes, before he pushed himself to his feet.

He made sure to tie his hair back before hoisting the body over one shoulder and heading toward the recycler. Nothing on EOS 10 was wasted, after all -- not even when it would definitely be more satisfying to shove the guy out an airlock and borrow some of Levi's missiles. Station security would find out eventually, notice some uptick in materials that were out of the norm. They’d probably figure out who it had been, if only because Kalpik wasn’t about to show up for work any time soon.

The trail would run cold there.

He tossed the gun in the recycler as well, almost as an afterthought, before making his way back to the bay. There was the expected rush of whispers when he came out of the doorway alone, and a new level of wariness in almost everyone.

Might be some push-back later. Nothing the Destroyer of Stars couldn’t handle.

“So,” he called, “anyone else got any concerns they’d like to bring up?”

The silence was satisfying. Akmazian threw his usual grin on again, grabbed his gun from the crate it still sat on, and went back to work.

The rib still hurt like a bitch.

At least he happened to know a good doctor.


End file.
